


Could You Love This?

by binchmarner



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whump, auston's sad and mitch makes him :) again, auston's shoulder injury, little bit a angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 16:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16643729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binchmarner/pseuds/binchmarner
Summary: Auston's hurt, and he hates being hurt. But Mitch is there to help him, and that makes it okay.“People were saying I was gonna break records,” he says softly. “And I just get hurt. Again. I need four weeks. Again. I abandon my team. Again. I should just be traded and--”“Hey, hey, now. Breathe. In, out. In, out.” Mitch cards his fingers through Auston’s hair, shushing him like his mother used to when he had panic attacks because he was drafted to the London Knights and had to leave home.“Would you still love me, if I sucked at hockey? Could you still love me if I fucked up my shoulder and couldn’t play ever again?” Auston says and in the silence of the room, it sounds so broken, so hurt, soloud.





	Could You Love This?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotts (LottieAnna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/gifts).



> IF YOU FOUND THIS BY GOOGLING YOUR NAME OR ANYONE YOU KNOW, please BLEASE CLICK AWAY NOW. This is just a work of fiction I wrote at 5 am.
> 
> CW//panic attacks
> 
> Title comes from dodie clark's song [If I'm Being Honest.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yae5LB0nLpw)

Mitch pulls his Range Rover up to Auston’s apartment, putting the car in park before texting his boyfriend.

_Here lol_

He waits five minutes, without so much as a read receipt, or a text, or even a thumbs up emoji from Auston.

_Dude you gotta leave your bed._

_Dude come on_

_We gotta go to physical therapy_

_Bro_

_Bro_

_Dudebro_

_Seriously we have to GO_

Mitch understands; it’s starting to get cold, and injuries could worsen because his muscles could tighten in the chilly air. But this is never before seen from Auston. Mitch tries to chalk it up to Auston oversleeping like he always does when he’s injured but Auston isn’t usually like this, injured or not. He turns the car on, pulls the car onto the side of the road, and enters the building. 

He uses his key for Auston’s condo to unlock the door, expecting to hear the TV on, a blasphemous game of CoD on the Xbox, or a particularly bad game of Fortnite going on, but he’s greeted by the low hum of the aircon, and--is that sniffling? Mitch rushes through the condo, following the noise to Auston’s room. 

He opens the door. “Baby?” Auston’s curled around a pillow, phone on the opposite nightstand, probably on do not disturb. He’s shaking, Mitch notices. He’s in sweatpants and a Maple Leafs sweater, but Mitch isn’t sure that he’s changed from the day before when Mitch left him for the game. He’s not so sure Auston could change with his hurt shoulder. Then he hears Auston’s computer playing with something that makes Mitch’s blood boil.

 _“And he’s a hockey player, he should’ve played through the injury. I remember when I was a hockey player, and there were just...different rules. Not this cushy stuff we have now.”_ the sportscaster says, and Auston draws in a shaky breath, not entirely noticing Mitch in the doorway.

“Baby, turn that off,” Mitch says, walking to sit in front of Auston, closing the Mac. His chest aches more than when he’d done bag skates during practice. This felt more like a hit to the stomach, seeing Auston broken on their bed, why hadn’t he seen it before? He wants to punch the sportscaster who doesn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, the washed up hockey player reminiscing on _the good old days of hockey_ on the grave of Auston’s injury.

“No, don’t--I deserve it. I let them down,” Auston says, biting his lower lip so it doesn’t quiver. 

“You let who down, babe?” Mitch threads his fingers in Auston’s hair, scratching at his scalp gently, and Auston draws in another breath. He looks like he’s about to start sobbing, and Mitch is torn between wanting to help him feel better by talking this out and getting him to physical therapy and getting him a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and letting Auston cry on his shoulder.

“Everyone. The Fans. Reporters. The dads and the moms and the fucking kids, God, the little kids. The ones counting on me.” Auston presses his cheek into the pillow. Mitch can see the starting of facial hair that normally he’d love, but this just means he was too upset to do anything, and his heart just aches.

“You haven’t let anyone down, and the people who are let down by something that’s not your fault can fuck right off, okay?” Mitch says, and God, he just wants to wrap Auston in a blanket and a hug. So he does. He finds the Good Blanket kicked to the bottom of their bed, looking sad and alone like many Good Blankets do when they’re not being used. Mitch walks over to Auston and tenderly removes the pillow and replaces it with his body. For the first time in a while, Auston tentacles himself around Mitch, burying his face into his neck. Mitch pulls up the Good Blanket and sighs, holding Auston tightly. 

Tear tracks stain Auston’s face. Mitch can feel them run down his neck, and God. How many times has Auston watched this video? “He’s right,” Auston says after a moment of painstaking silence.

“No, he’s not. People died playing this game. Getting concussions because they were too stupid to wear fucking helmets. Roll over,” Mitch says softly. Mitch pushes them over so he has room to lie on his back, then motions for Auston to come closer. Auston quickly climbs over, wrapping his arms around Mitch’s waist, resting his head on Mitch’s.

“People were saying I was gonna break records,” he says softly. “And I just get hurt. Again. I need four weeks. Again. I abandon my team. Again. I should just be traded and--”

“Hey, hey, now. Breathe. In, out. In, out.” Mitch cards his fingers through Auston’s hair, shushing him like his mother used to when he had panic attacks because he was drafted to the London Knights and had to leave home.

“Would you still love me, if I sucked at hockey? Could you still love me if I fucked up my shoulder and couldn’t play ever again?” Auston says and in the silence of the room, it sounds so broken, so hurt, so _loud_.

Mitch’s heart breaks. How many people used him before he found Mitch?

“Look at me. Auston Matthews, look at me,” Mitch says, and his heart hurts when he sees the tears flooding Auston’s eyes. “I’d love you if you were,” he thinks for a second. “a librarian, a barista, a gym coach. A fucking math teacher. I love you now, and I’ll love you when we’re 45 and married and our contracts have run out and we have countless Stanley Cups under our belt, and I’ll love you if you’re home, and you’re caring for our kids while I’m playing hockey. There is no universe where I don’t love you, Aus.” 

“Mouse,” Auston smiles for what seems like the first time in forever, pushing himself up to kiss Mitch deeply. “You want to marry me?” Auston says after a moment, kissing Mitch’s collarbone, and Mitch’s eyes widen, his chest tightening as he’s caught with his secret hanging out in the open.

“I--I mean, I’m not _opposed_ to the idea,” Mitch says, flushing red at being caught with a secret, a big secret at that. Auston smirks slightly, a small quirk of his lips. 

“And you want to have _kids._ How much have you thought about this?” Auston said, holding Mitch tighter, laughing when Mitch covers his eyes with the crook of his arm. 

“Not a lot?” Mitch tries, and when he lifts his arm to look at Auston, who’s raising an eyebrow and he sighs. “A lot. Since we saw Marty propose to Syd.” 

“That--that was in _March_.” 

Mitch groaned, embarrassed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But you should’ve seen your face when she said yes. You were crying, bro. That’s the stuff they put in sappy Hallmark movies,” he says. It’s a few minutes before Auston’s breathing fully returns to normal before he speaks again. “But yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. We’ve been together for a couple years. I’m not like, ring shopping, but, I’ve been thinking about it. Talking to Hyms about it.” 

“Yeah?” Auston says, drawing a heart, a 34, a 16, a flower, onto Mitch’s chest, right over Mitch’s heart. “That’s nice. Where would you do it? Propose, I mean.”

“Well--wait. I’m not telling you, smartass!” Mitch laughs, and Auston joins him, a bright smile on his face.

“You know that this is a competition now, right?” Auston says, and Mitch grins.

“I’m gonna propose the shit out of you. You’re gonna need to propose to me after to save face, bro.” Mitch says, running a hand through his hair.

Auston rolls his eyes. “Sure, bro. Definitely.” 

Mitch is so in love. 

“C’mon. Let’s get you into new clothes and to physical therapy, and I’ll blow you tonight.” Mitch says, only half joking, laughing when Auston’s ears perk up. “Horny asshole.”

“You’re the one who offered!” Auston said, gingerly pushing himself up off of Mitch. It’s only then that Mitch realizes what a furnace Auston is, as he’s literally freezing when Auston swings his legs so he’s on the other side of the bed. Mitch climbs over to Auston and hugs him from behind.

“I love you. Always have, always will. Loved you from the moment you kissed me on the ferris wheel at the Christmas market, to now, and to when you say yes for my bomb as fuck proposal and beyond. Infinity and beyond, bro. Infinity and beyond.” Mitch says, kissing the shell of Auston’s ear. 

Auston hums, then he laughs.“You seriously didn’t just say _Bomb as fuck,_ Mister 2012. And you call me old school.” Auston laughs, beginning to wipe his tears, but Mitch stops him.

“Shut up and let me wipe your tears away, okay?” Mitch says, and it’s impossibly fond, cradling Auston’s face in his hands. He wipes Auston’s cheeks, his tear tracks under his eyes, drags the pad of his thumb over Auston’s bottom lip. Auston holds Mitch’s wrist, and surges forward to kiss him, and Mitch eagerly meets him halfway. 

Everything about kissing Auston is wonderful. it’s always wonderful. But now there’s the promise of something more, something sure, that tastes better than Mitch’s peppermint candy cane bubblegum.

“Infinity and beyond, huh?” Auston says when they pull apart. Mitch smiles, leaning their foreheads together.

“Infinity and beyond.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always very much appreciated!


End file.
